Legend of the Soaring Hawk
by Lightningfencer00Fuzz
Summary: PG13 for violence. The story of a group of Blue Rogues. Chapter 9: memories... I'm going on vacation, so last chapter till august!
1. A young boy's dream

A/N: Hello, and welcome to… the story!!! Just to clear things up, this fic only takes place in the SoA world. It has nothing to do with the storyline. It is as if the game never took place. I'm just using the setting. Hehehehehe… Aren't I original…

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            It was a fine day on Sailor's island as the Valuans marched into Polly's tavern. They were on leave, and were heart set on spending their hard-earned salaries on three things: Loqua, Loqua, and more Loqua. The soldiers were so caught up in partying that they didn't' notice their server, a tall, strong looking young boy of about sixteen, slip something into their drinks…

            They partied for hours, until finally, drunk as dogs, they stumbled into the inn and collapsed onto their beds.

            "Hehehehehe… That sleeping draught worked perfectly" Mark thought to himself as he nodded to the men in the corner of the bar. They trooped off, each inwardly smiling at the loot they were going to pull from this. One stayed behind. This man Mark approached. "Just make sure your men leave some for me", he said. The man nodded. His face was hidden with a hood.

            "Don't worry, lad. There'll be plenty for you. Just leave everything to us. Harharharhar!" The man's laugh was not reassuring at all. It sounded more like a wet boar in its death throes than a laugh. Mark wasn't amused. This was his first job with the crew. He had been approached last week during his job at the bar. The men said they were Blue Rouges, and Mark was jubilant at getting the chance to participate.

            His parent's merchant ship had been attacked by Black Pirates, and the Valuans who defeated the pirates left them and the crew to die, leaving Mark as an orphan back on Sailor's Island. He had grown up on the streets, picking pockets to make a living until he was old enough to get a job in the tavern. He had learned how to use his pistol and long rapier from a passing fighter, and was an expert in street fighting. He had trained to be able to fight, to make sure that what had happened to him would never happen again. It was his lifelong dream to become a Blue Rouge captain, fighting evil and living life by his own rules. Now, that dream would become sweet, blissful reality.

            They started down the street toward the inn. Mark smiled, imagining the gold he would get from robbing them. Suddenly, he heard someone shout.

            "Stop, in the name of Valua!" cried the voice. Mark whirled around. A Valuan lieutenant and five soldiers were standing in front of the door to the dock. Mark could see that he was referring to them. He turned to the other man. But, he saw, the man was not where he was, but beating a hasty retreat to the inn. He was about to ask why he didn't stand and fight, when his attention was directed back to the Valuans. He saw that the lieutenant realized that he was associated with the man, but he could also see that he didn't take Mark seriously at all. That was his mistake. Realizing that his life was in danger, he sprung into action.

            "You'd best surrender," the Valuan gloated. " You have no hope of winning." Looking at Mark's determined expression, the lieutenant realized he meant to fight "Or are you going to take us all by yourself? Hahahahahahaha!!" He obviously thought it was all a big joke.

Mark caught the lieutenant by surprise, striking him across the face with a roundhouse kick. The lieutenant staggered, clearly surprised by Mark's blow. He followed up with an uppercut, leaving the man down for the count.

The other soldiers rushed Mark, forcing him into action. He reached into his shirt, simultaneously delivering a left hook to a soldier. He pulled out his pistol, firing at one of the soldiers, but only stunning him. Another soldier slashed at him with his sword. He dodged, and drew his own blade from its scabbard. He countered another strike, and jabbed out, piercing one soldier's armor at the neck. He fell with a gurgle. He fired his pistol again, felling another soldier. He lashed out with the butt of his pistol, knocking yet another unconscious. _Two left, he thought to himself. _Doing great_. He lunged forward, slashing with his rapier. The soldier parried. He struck again. The soldier parried again. He feinted, then struck. His thrust hit home. The soldier took it in the gut, falling to the ground. Abruptly, he noticed the other was nowhere to be seen. __Behind me, he realized, but it was too late. The remaining soldier drove his blade into Mark. Only his quick reflexes saved him. The blade pierced his side instead of his heart. He turned, firing his pistol and taking down the last man._

Holding his side where the blade had pierced him, he hurried into the inn. He had only enough time to realize that there was a pistol in his face before he was knocked unconscious.

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Hehehehehe… Real cliffhanger there, huh? Well, R&R, please!!!!


	2. Eric the Red

A/N: Quick update, huh? Yep, I've got nothing better to do, so here it is… Chapter 2!!! But first, let's recap!!! In our last chapter, our hero beat up a bunch of Valuans, but was injured in the process. Then, he had a pistol shoved in his face, and was knocked unconscious. Not a good day. And it's not over yet…

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            Mark stirred. His first thought was, _man, this is one heck of a headache_. It hurt to even move his head. He looked around. He was in what looked like the storeroom of a ship. He found that he was tied securely to his chair. At first his memory was foggy, but then he remembered. He had fought off some Valuans, but one of them had stabbed him in the side. The wound still throbbed. But what after then? He had fled to the inn, but… someone had knocked him unconscious! But who?

            His thoughts were interrupted when someone entered the room.

            "So you're awake, eh?" It was the leader of the Blue Rouges he had been with. But why had the man fled at the first sight of Valuans? And why had he been knocked unconscious? It wasn't like Blue Rouges at all…

            He voiced his questions. "Why did you run away? And why am I tied up?"

            "I'll tell you, boy" the man said. "You caused a lot of trouble back there. If you hadn't gone and fought those Valuans, we could've gotten away clean. But as it is, they've sent reinforcements. Now we're in for it.

            "But Blue Rouges…" Mark began, but the man cut him off.

            "Fool boy! Haven't you figured it out yet?" The man roared. Then he pulled up his hood. Mark gasped. The face was one he had seen many times before, on wanted posters and in the sailor's guild. It was the face of Eric the Red, infamous Black Pirate. Mark realized he must be in the hold of Eric's ship, the _Bloodkeel. "We only needed you to slip the sleeping draught into the drinks. We would have just left you then, but now…" Eric pulled a pistol from his coat. "You will have to _die!_"_

            Just when Eric was about to fire, the room was rocked by an explosion. A man who Mark identified as one of Eric's crew rushed in.

            "Captain! Three Valuan cruisers are attacking!!!"

            "Well fire back!! Do I have to do everything myself? Argh!" He hurried out of the room, calling back to Mark "I'll finish with you later!"

            Mark struggled to get out of his chair. Above on deck, he heard the sounds of battle. It seemed that some of the Valuans had boarded the ship. Mark tried again and again to slip off the ropes, but they held firm.

            Suddenly, there was another explosion. A nearby cutlass fell from the wall, neatly severing his bonds. Mark dashed out of the room, stopping to retrieve his weapons from a basket of other captured items.

            He ran through the halls, with no real plan in his mind but to get on deck. When he reached the door leading to the deck, he peeked out. What he saw was the scene of a mass battle. The bodies of both side's dead littered the floor. And the battle still raged strong.

            A plan started to form in his mind. He saw that one of the cruisers had been left unguarded. If he could reach it…

            His mind made up, he dashed out onto the deck. He could see that they were in the air above Sailor's Island. He skirted the edge of the battle. He was halfway there when he was stopped by a Valuan.

            "Hey! You're that kid who took out Lieutenant Louis' group! Stop him!" Summoned by the soldier's call, six other men came and surrounded him. There were too many for him to take on, wounded as he was. And he had never been that great at magic…

            He would have to bluff them off. He started walking backwards toward the edge of the deck. The soldiers were emboldened by this, thinking he was retreating.

            "Hehehehehe. Not so tough after all, huh kid?" said the leader.

            Mark's next move caught them by surprise. He went back… back… until he could feel the edge of the deck. Then, he performed a back flip, going over the edge.

            "What the ****?" said a soldier. They were astounded by the fact that Mark had just jumped to his death.

            Mark landed on the barrel of a cannon, wincing as the shock sent pain jolting up his side. He hopped to the next… and the next… traversing the side of the ship until he reached the unguarded cruiser. He jumped onto the deck, quickly severing the boarding lines with his rapier.

            Then, racing into the bridge, he reached the helm. He quickly started the engines, pulling away from the _Bloodkeel_. Now to make sure of its doom… cutting the engines, he ran to the gunnery room. Taking the controls to one of the main guns, he pivoted it until it was pointed at one of the other cruisers. He fired. The shell scored a direct hit on the cruiser's engine room, totally destroying it with a tremendous explosion. Then he pointed it at the second cruiser. This time, his shell only hit at deck level, starting a fire. The second shell totaled the bridge. The ship began to slowly sink, the ropes burning away in the fire. By this time, the fighters on the ship had realized what was up, and were firing back. However, their shots could not penetrate ship's armor, and before they could bring the _Bloodkeel's guns to bear, Mark was firing at them. Once, twice, three times the pirate ship shook with the hits, before slowly following the second cruiser down into the deep sky, never to be seen again._

            Mark walked back to the bridge, slumping down into the captain's chair. He would need to hide the ship from the Valuans. He knew an island, not far from Sailor's island…  He could use that as his base. He could become… A Blue Rouge!!!

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Hehehehehe… isn't this exiting? (Crickets chirping) … whatever. The next few chapters will be about him getting a crew and setting up at his new base… See you then!


	3. A Blue Rogue at last

……………… I need more to do…

Megaman: I know. Three chapters in two days.

And where were you for these past two chapters?

MM: ummmmm… sleeping!

……… Okay! ^_^!!

MM: (relived) Ok, on with the chapter!!

Yes… but first, a response to the ONE SOLITARY REVIEW that I have received so far…

Desert Lynx- ummmmm… Yes.

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            As Mark piloted the lifeboat into one of the docking spaces of Sailor's Island, he took a moment to reflect on what had happened since he had escaped in the stolen Valuan cruiser. He had piloted it to Guidestones Island, in between Sailor's Island, Nasr, and Valua. He had concealed the ship on the island, and then taken its only lifeboat out to Sailor's Island. He had yet to think of a name for his new ship, but he figured that that would all come in time. For now, he would be content with assembling a crew.

            When he was in the clutches of Eric the Red, he had thought that his dream of becoming a Blue Rouge would never come true. But now, he could use the captured cruiser as his ship. He had finally become a captain of his own ship!

            Now, he had to assemble a crew. He knew of some likely candidates, and decided to try those first. He walked down the pier and into the main part of the island.

            An hour later, he surveyed the base crew he had assembled. He had his main crewmen all accounted for. He had gathered up some of his friends on the island, people he knew from the streets.

            At the helm, he had John Lasanti, star young prodigy helmsman. John had won the Sailor's Island Round-the-Island race for the past three years running, since he was fourteen. John knew every nautical trick in the book, making him Mark's first choice for the helm. John was tall and lanky, with dark hair. He wore a leather aviator's jacket with goggles, tight-fitting pants and brown shoes. He had a huge cutlass slung across his back. Even in such an exciting time, had a perfectly calm look on his face.

Leana Felisco, his new main gunner, was wearing a keyed up grin on her face. Mark knew through personal experience that that could change at any moment, as the fiery redhead was prone to mood swings and was described by all as 'trigger happy'. She was just as likely to be smiling at you as pointing one of her twin pistols in your face. She was 'decked out' as she liked to say, in an orange shirt and shorts, with orange sandals to accompany them.

The lookout, Rick 'Double E' Jones, was looking out the window of Mark's apartment above the tavern at one of the ships in the harbor. Rick had the sharpest eyes on Sailor's Island, which had earned him his nickname, which meant 'Eagle Eye'. He had a sniper's rifle in a holster crossway on his back. He was famous for feats of shooting skill, and legend had it that he could shoot down a ship with one shot to the right place. He was wearing a blue jacket with a yellow shirt underneath, with yellow-and-blue striped pants and shoes. He said that complemented his hair, which was dyed bright yellow.

The last member of the new crew was Wallace 'Fixit' Charlesbury, the ship's engineer. Wallace got his nickname from his impressive mechanical skills. If it was broken, he could fix it. Often, you'd get it back better that when you first got it. And he was also a great inventor, frequently making devices just for the fun of it. It was he who made the ships that John piloted to win, commonly placing gadgets that no one else had on them. Just last year, John pulled ahead of the competition using booster engines that Wallace had made from torpedoes with the warheads removed. He always wore his work overalls, with goggles up on his blond hair to protect his eyes from things that might be dangerous.

"I think the first order of business",  said Wallace, "should be thinking up a name for ourselves. All great Blue Rouges have cool names. Like The Scarlet Thunder, or The Roguish Knights.

"Hmmmmm…" said Mark. "You're right. We _should_ have a good name. I'm open to suggestions."

"The Cannon Crew! So people know we're not afraid to shoot them down!" said Leana.

"The Flying Fixers. So they know we can repair our ship well." suggested Wallace.

"How about… The Eagle Eyes! Cause' we're all pretty good shots." recommended Rick.

"I'm neutral on this, pretty much" stated John.

Mark considered the suggestions. They were all good ones, but in his mind they lacked… Something, a crucial ingredient… 

Suddenly, his eyes, wandering to the window, caught on something. It was a hawk, soaring on the thermals from the island. This magnificent creature, free to fly with the winds, free to do as it pleased, this picture of beauty, grace, and at the same time, deadly, it was the perfect symbol for all Blue Rouges stood for. And at that moment, a feeling came upon him. It was a feeling… of being _one with the hawk, soaring across the sky with not a care in the world._

"I've got it", he said, "The Soaring Hawks!"

And so it was decided. They had a name. And the ship was thereby christened _Hawk's Claw_. Thus was born the beginning of a legend, one that would endure long after it was ended. It was a legend that would encompass the entire known world, and beyond. It was… The Legend of the Soaring Hawk!

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Gilder: (reading chapter)… who knew you had a philosophical bent?

Huh? Oh… I don't remember much of writing that chapter… just a lot of jumping around an banging my head on the keyboard… Whatever. R&R, please!


	4. Happenings

Alright, here I am with another chapter! Now to reply to reviews!!!

Desert Lynx- yea, I thought something was amiss… I'll use that from now on!!

Kevin C- I hoped you would! ^_^

Saridaru-chan (#1) praise is good!

Saridaru-chan (#2) Why thank you!

Note: This chapter will introduce… (Cue dramatic music) The……… bad guy!! Yay!!! Additionally, it will include something else! Something I should have included _long_ before this!!! A description of the main character! I feel stupid………

And now, welcome to chapter four!

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            Patricia Axedeath hefted her battleaxe and waited as her ship pulled even with the merchant craft. She had gotten her name from the huge two-handed axe that was her weapon. She was a Black Pirate, the newest to become the 'scourge of the skies' around Sailor's Island. Her ship, the _Bladeprow, had caught the unarmed trader's ship coming from the Nasr kingdom. Once they were in position, her crew would board the craft and plunder the goods from it. She smiled just thinking about it…_

            She could see on the deck of the other ship that the merchant's guards were assembled to fight them. She laughed. They had no hope of stopping her! _Fools, she thought._

            They were in position. She lifted her axe and roared out a battle cry. Her crew swung across to the other ship. She grabbed a rope and jumped off, swinging diagonally to the other ship. Once she touched down, she immediately went into battle, splitting an unsuspecting guard almost in half with her blade. She laid about with her weapon, left and right. No one could escape her axe!

            Suddenly, a tremendous explosion rocked the ship. She tore her gaze away from the battle, turning toward her own ship. A hole had been torn in the deck, and a fire was starting. _Where?_, she wondered, but her question was cut short by the answer. A Valuan cruiser was flying above them, on its side to allow them to shoot downwards. At first she thought it was a patrol, but she spotted an unfamiliar flag flying from the mast. It was a hawk, clutching lighting in one claw and an eyepatch in the other, on a blue background. She recognized the flag as one she had heard of. It belonged to a local crew of Blue Rogues, called the Blue Hawks. They had become famous lately, striking without warning against Black Pirates and Valuan patrols alike.

            Her thoughts were cut short by another blast, hitting the mainmast of her three-masted vessel. She raced across, jumping back onto her ship. She must stop the fires, save her ship… But it was no use. The fire was out of control, and they had no time to quench it. There was only one option left: Escape. She dashed down, into her ship, racing down hallways, past fires, until she reached the lifeboat bay. She hastily boarded a lifeboat, pushing off and starting the engine, hoping to make a fast getaway.

            She launched out, just as another blast sent tremors through the ship. She aimed away from the burning hulk, as fast as the boat would allow. Someone would be interested in this…

*****

            As Mark watched, the Black Pirates either surrendered or were knocked unconscious by his crew. The merchants had given them part of their stock out of gratitude for saving them. After destroying the Black Pirates' ship, they had docked with the merchant vessel and subdued the pirates. They went down easily after seeing their captain abandon them. His first mate, Jackney, approached him.

            "Captain, we've captured all the Black Pirates. What do you want us to do with them now?" He asked.

            "Do you really have to ask? What we always do, of course." He replied.

            "Check that, sir. I'll give a shout to helm to set a course for Sailor's Island."

            A few minutes later, the pirates were unconscious and hanging from the lighthouse on Sailor's Island, and the ship was sailing away.

*****

            After he had rounded up his main crew, Mark had hired more basic men to fill the remaining slots: gunners, sailors, and the like. He had chosen Guidestones Isle for his base, hollowing it out and docking the ship inside. As they entered the base through the hidden door in the side, he viewed his surroundings. Wallace had directed the workings, and there were caves that served as buildings. There was the dormitory; a weapon and armor shop, a storeroom, and even a workshop where Wallace made items that would be helpful. Surprisingly, he was good at magic, and made not only mechanical devices but crystals and magic boxes as well.

            He got off the ship and went towards his captain's quarters. They were on the first level of the cave, along with the dormitories. He opened the door, and went over to his window. It was camouflaged so that it was invisible to anyone on the outside. From it, he could see most of the open sky between Sailor's Island and Valua.

            He glanced over at his mirror. He noticed that he looked… different from what he used to be. More mature, he thought. Being a captain did that to you, he guessed. His short brown hair seemed neater, less wild, from when he was living on the streets of Sailor's Island. He stood taller, straighter. It looked like he had aged ten years in the short time between when he first became a Blue Rogue.

            It had been six months since he had started, and he had made the area around the island a dangerous place for evil. The storeroom was piled high with loot taken from ships. Their main prey was Black Pirates, as few Valuan patrols had come into the area. The merchants loved them, as many a ship had been saved from raiders by them. And children on Sailor's Island idolized them, playing 'Blue Rogues and Valuans' in the streets. It was the best of times for many of them. 

            But it was not to last…………

*****

            The Valuan battleship _Daggerblade_ had a visitor. As Patricia Axedeath was guided through the halls by a pair of Valuan guards, she made sure to take in her surroundings in exact detail. You never know when it might be useful, she believed. She had been picked up by the ship and had demanded to see the captain, thinking that if she told them what she knew, they might let her go. When she reached the bridge, she was brought up to see a man standing at the top level, with the markings of a Valuan captain.

            "You are the captain of this ship? Good." She said, acknowledging his nod. "I have information that might interest you…"

            She began to tell her story, albeit a version that had her being outnumbered, chopping down mass numbers of enemies, and only having to flee as a last resort. She was nearing the end when her story was interrupted. She felt a prickling on the back of her neck. She turned. The man who was behind her was tall and slim, dressed in fine silks. He had blond hair, and pale skin.

            He was the last thing she ever saw!

            As Vedrain Belugas removed his throwing dagger from the back of the pirate's neck, his advisor, Cadrian Golas, approached him.

            "Was that really necessary, my lord?" She queried. "The pirate might have given us more information."

            "Not anything that we didn't already know. We're already aware of the Blue Rogue activity."

            He went down to the bottom level of the bridge, looking out of the large view port. The bridge was situated at the back of the battleship, on the top level. The battleship had been made custom for him. It was shaped like a dagger, with the engines on the cross hilt, and the main cannon protruded from the front, where the point would be. Other cannons were mounted on turrets sticking out of the ship's slope. It was styled that way because of his skill with throwing daggers. He was an impeccable shot with them. He carried them along with him wherever he went.

            Vedrain was the Third Admiral of the Valuan Armada. The previous one, Vigoro, had been found dead under 'mysterious circumstances'. At the promotion ceremony, Galacian had said he was "an officer who shows initiative". Galacian liked initiative!

            He had been assigned to keep the peace in the Sailor's Island territories. His fleet was the first line of defense against any attacker. He prized technique; his fleet was commanded by the most skilled captains in the Armada.

            "We shall have to do something about this…" he mused.

            "Could we not just let them alone and not send patrols into that area? They would take care of all the Black Pirates for us." Cadrian advised

            "No," he replied. "That would be a sign of weakness. I will not tolerate weakness in my fleet." He thought for a moment. "Send the battleship _Teodora out to find and destroy the Blue Rogue base. They will bow down to the all-powerful Valuan Armada……"_

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Hehehehehe… so, ya like it? If this does well, I'll make this fic the first in a series… 

R&R, please! And if you must flame, gentle flames please!!!


	5. Attack!

I'm Baaaaack!! Sorry for the wait… I had… 'Writer's block'

Gilder: Would it have anything to do with _these? (Holds up copies of Command&Conquer Generals: Zero Hour, SoAL, and Advance Wars 2)_

Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe…

Gilder: And these? (Holds up volume 1 of Naruto, Shaman King, One Piece, .Hack//, and Trigun)

. It was my birthday last month, what do you expect?

Gilder: And this? (holds up copy of the newest Redwall book)

…Well I had writer's block _before I got all those… On to the story already…_

******

Reviews:

Tandi: Thanks!

Desert Lynx: Right, thanks again for pointing that out…

Dark Ronin: … Well, yes, I do read a lot of Redwall books… So I guess my writing style would be heavily influenced by that… and okay, it's Galcian, okay… But Vedrain is supposed to be more like Galcian than Ramirez, so I guess I succeeded… And if the S.S.P. ever comes after me, I can just have Gilder and his A.G.R.G.F. (Association of Gilder's Rabidly Gunslinging Fans) come and take them down… And Gilder's getting better… He's been taking lessons from Vash the Stampede lately…

******

            Under the cover of darkness, the battleship _Teodora_ slipped closer to the island that had been identified as the Blue Rogue's base. Its captain, Marco, stared out of the viewport, his one good eye scanning the night sky for any sign of his opponents.

            "Prepare for bombardment."

            Marco was a new recruit in the Armada, only recently promoted to captain, but he was advancing in the ranks very quickly. He had been a sailor before, and had lost his eye during a battle on deck. The ship had been attacked by monsters, and he was charged by the leader of the pack, a huge, hulking behemoth more than twice his size. Marco had lost his eye. The monster had lost its life!

***

            As the _Teodora slipped closer, it went unnoticed by the sleeping guards on Guidestones Isle. There was no one awake to alert the base of the impending approach. If there had, perhaps the battle would not have gone the way it did. But perhaps it was meant to be. Who knows? The web of fate is a tangled one, and even the slightest differences can mean major consequences in future times. There is no way of knowing…_

            As Leana slept, dreaming dreams of gold and treasure, her sleep was interrupted by a huge explosion. She was thrown out of her bed and jolted awake. "What the…" she said sleepily. She raced out into the hallway. There she saw the other members of the crew, looking around sleepily. 

"What's going on?" asked Wallace. Suddenly the alarm started blaring. Out of a voice-tube set in the wall came the voice of the night watchman.

"Alert! Alert! The Armada is attacking! Repeat, the Armada is attacking! Battle stations! Battle stations!

"The Armada?!" said Leana. "How'd they find us?"

Suddenly, Mark appeared, shouting orders to the crew.

"Alright, battle stations, battle stations, people! Go, go, go!" They rushed off to their stations, racing to defend the base. When they arrived at the path to the cannon room, they found it blocked by rubble. The base shook again.

"They're boarding! C'mon!" Mark shouted. He was strangely calm, leading his crew in the defense of the island. The Valuans were coming in at the port, and had seized control of the area near there. The crew was making a stand at the hallway leading to the rest of the base.

A fierce battle ensued. John dashed back and forth, hacking and slashing with his cutlass. Leana fired her pistols, the shells ripping through the Valuan lines like a knife through butter. Rick sat back and sniped enemy soldiers. Mark stabbed with his rapier, piercing armor and severing skin. Even Wallace had a part, dashing back and forth giving aid to wounded crewmen. It was looking pretty even until the Valuans got reinforcements. Suddenly, the battle was turning, the tide of enemy soldiers pushing back the lines of the pirates. Leana ran up to Mark.

"Mark! Run! We're doomed now, but you can save yourself!"

"No! I can't abandon my crew now! You run!"

"No, Mark, You've got to go! It'll do no good to us if you die!

"… You're right. Jackney! Come on, we'll take the spare lifeboat from the side dock! Let's go!"

They raced away from the battle, sprinting down a corridor toward the secret hidden dock on the other side of the island. Suddenly, another blast rocked the base, collapsing the ceiling above them!

Once the dust cleared, Mark could see that he was trapped under a beam. He heaved it off himself and looked around for Jackney. When he saw, he gasped. The first mate was lying facedown, trapped under a huge pile of rubble. He raced over to him and turned him over. "Jackney. Jackney!"

The first mate coughed. He was obviously mortally wounded. "Leave me, sir. There's nothing you can do for me… Just promise to get back at the Valuans for what they did…"

"No. I won't let you die!" but he was too late. Jackney slowly faded… and died.

Mark stood up. Then, he made a solemn oath. He would get the Armada… they would pay for what they had done.

******

How'd' ya like it? R&R, plz!

P.S. Special contest!!! Anyone who can tell me what video game John's last name comes from gets a cookie! If you can tell me his role, you get a plate of cookies! (hint: in the game, his first name is the same as one of the other main crewmen in this story)

Author's note: Okay… You know Dark Ronin? The guy I'm writing SoA glitches and oddities with? Well, he's got an SoA website… It's not much now, but it'll be a lot better soon… So visit it!!!! Now!!!! Why are you still reading this page!!! (URL: thedarkrift.tripod.com)


	6. Master

And I'm back…

Mega man: So fast?

Well it's not like I have anything else worthwhile to do… (melodramatic sob)

Gilder: He lost his Gamecube memory cards.

MM: Ouch…

(Very melodramatic sob)

Gilder: And his CD case with almost all his computer games in it…

MM: Double ouch…

(EXTREMELY MELODRAMATIC sob)

Gilder: … And now for something completely different… After an announcement… which should stop the sobbing… I hope… Whatever. Anyway, there will not be any updates over the holidays… do you know why?

MM: (sounding bored) why?

Gilder: … VACATION!!! That's right, starting Saturday, your favorite author will be spending the holidays in style, by going diving on a tropical island for two weeks. And there's no internet there, so we can't do any updating… Oh, and thanks to Desert Lynx for being the ONLY PERSON TO REVIEW THE LAST CHAPTER!!!... Kirby mad… (_) SO REVIEW THIS ONE, EVERYBODY!!!

***

            Mark was dreaming… there was a girl standing over him. She was young, and had blond hair. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't dreaming. He sat up and looked around. He was lying in a bed, in a room that was decorated with pictures of rivers and flowers. Sunlight was streaming in through the closed blinds of a window. He could tell by the sound of wind that he was in an airship. Other than the girl, there was no one in the room but him. He turned to her

            "Where am I?" he asked her. The girl only looked at him. Suddenly, the door opened. The man who entered was tall, with close-cut hair, and wore a lab coat. He looked at the girl.

            "There you are, Maria. I've been looking for you. Huh?" he seemed to notice Mark for the first time. "You're awake, I see."

            Mark looked at him. He repeated his question. "Where am I?"

            " You're on a free medical ship. I'm Doc. That's Maria." He said, indicating the girl. "She doesn't talk. Her parents were killed in an airship crash, and I've adopted her. I picked you up a last night. You were drifting in a lifeboat."

            "How…" Mark wondered for a moment. Then he remembered with a start. He had left the base using the extra lifeboat, but the battleship had spotted him. The last thing he remembered was a shell exploding near the lifeboat. He must have been knocked unconscious by the blast…

            Suddenly he remembered. He had to get going! Every moment he spent here was a moment the rest of his crew was closer to execution. He swung his legs over the side of the bed…

            … And immediately regretted it. His side burned like fire, and he fell out of the bed and onto the floor.

            "Wait!" Doc exclaimed, leaping over to help him up. "You suffered a wound that's not entirely healed yet. You'd best wait some to let it heal. I put a salve on it, so it should heal in an hour or so."

            "But I have to go! I have to save them!" Mark shouted.

            Doc leaned over. "What are you talking about?"

            Mark explained his situation. "You're not going to turn me in or anything, are you?"

            "Of course not. But you'd be wise not to rush off so rashly. You alone aren't nearly powerful enough to save them." Doc cautioned.

            "Then what am I going to do? If I can't save them, what can I do?" Mark said.

            "Well… there is something you can do. But I'm not even sure he's even alive still…" Doc said wonderingly.

            "He? Who's He?" Mark queried.

            "Legend speaks of a great sword-master, the greatest swordsman who ever lived. If you could find him, he might train you in the ways of the masters. But noone knows where he is. Rumor has it that he's somewhere in North Ocean, though." Doc explained.

            There was no doubt in Mark's mind of his next destination. North Ocean it was! "I've got to find him! He may be the only chance I have of saving my crew." Mark tested his legs. His wound had healed some, and he was able to stand. "Do you know where I can find out more?"

            Doc watched him walk across the room toward the door. "Good. In an hour or so you'll be fit to travel. As to your journey… A fellow named Gordo runs a bistro in that area. You might want to check it out to see if he has any information."

            "Excellent. I'll check that out." Mark said while opening the door. "By the way, did my lifeboat survive?"

            "Yep. It's tied to my boat on the side. You should get some more rest, though. If you take off now, you might run the risk of reopening that wound." Doc advised.

            "Alright. I will. But only for an hour, mind you…" Mark found that he was extremely tired. He was asleep before he hit the bed.

***

            When Mark guided the lifeboat into the dock of Gordo's Bistro two hours later, he was expecting to find information on the legendary sword-master. Little did he know that each step he took off the lifeboat was one more step along a path fraught with danger… leading to an ultimate destiny that even the masters of the universe cannot see…

*Whew* I had to go into power writing mode to finish that on time. So, that's done. As stated above, I'm going on vacation, so no updates for two weeks. And the… problems with not enough to do will be solved by then, since I found my CD case sometime between the beginning and ending of writing this story, and I'm getting a memory card 256 for Christmas… So the next chapter might be postponed due to… 'writer's block'

Gilder: *hem* *hem*

… right. See you! And… REVIEW!!! Oh, and the name contest is still on… see chap. 5 for details if you missed that part… 


	7. Carlos

Fuzz: (walks in with a CD player playing 'Abra, Abra, Cadabra'… The original Steve Miller version, not the remake.) Abra, abra, cadabra… I wanna reach out and grab ya.

Gilder: … oh boy.  
  


What? I can't hear you over this 'best of Steve Miller' CD I got for Christmas. (Turns it off) Okay. I'm back. And it's time for an update! Sorry about the shortness of last chapter. I'll put more into this one. So let's go!

            Mark regarded the stranger leaning against the wall just outside Gordo's Bistro with a casual eye. The man's face was half-hidden behind dark hair, with his eyes barely visible. He decided that the man would be enough for his mission, and edged up to him.

            "Excuse me…" He started, but was cut off by the man's sudden stare. He had to wait a moment before he could continue. "Do you know where I can find some information on someone? I'm looking for a certain person…"

            The man only stared at him more. It seemed like hours before he responded.

            "Information, eh? Your best bet would be to ask Carlos the information trader. He knows everything that goes on around here, and I mean _everything. He'll tell you what you want… for a price. Ask for him in the bar."_

            So. This information trader Carlos could tell him what he wanted. He would find him. And then, he would seek out the sword master. And then… he would free his friends from the Valuans. He would never-_could never-give up on his quest. If he did, all hope would be lost for his captured crew. He pushed open the door into the bistro, this goal fresh in his mind. But he didn't notice the stranger giving the thumbs-up to some of the patrons in the bar, did not see them tense up, as if they were preparing for a fight._

As he strode across the bar room in Gordo's Bistro, Mark could feel he was being watched. It was an uneasy feeling that settled across him, causing his eyes to dart back and forth, scanning the room full of people watching him over their mugs of loqua.

            Gordo's Bistro was divided into two sections, one which was for the high-end, high-paying customers such as people from Valua's Upper City, who came to sip wine in the large Grand Ballroom, and would settle for nothing less than the best prepared dishes fresh from a kitchen that was run by the best chefs in the business. Mark knew that gossip would not be found there-and also that any attempt to get it would be met by an unfriendly welcome from the aristocrats, not to mention their squads of burly bodyguards.

            So he entered the bar section, where the lower classes went to drink away their troubles with a nice tall glass of loqua. _This_ was where the good stuff would be found, and it was not loqua he was thinking about. Everyone-even the bartender, from Mark's experience-knew the where, when, who, how, what, and why on whatever was happening in Arcadia at the moment, and was willing to spill the beans at a moment's notice. And if they didn't know, this was where they went. This was where he expected to learn the whereabouts of the sword master that Doc had told him about. If he could find this Carlos.

            He sidled up to the bartender, still painfully aware of the eyes on his back, and got his attention by tapping on the bar. The bartender, who had a wicked scar on his left eyebrow, looked at him with a gaze that clearly said that the man thought that Mark was too young to be running around in the bar, and that he should shove off and go back to his parents. Mark shook it off with practiced ease. He got those kinds of things often.

            Mark tried to ignore the stares he was getting. He wondered why everyone was staring… _Probably like the bartender, he supposed. _Think I'm to young and 'delicate' to be here. They'll soon learn different, though_, he thought. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for someone. Could you tell me where I can find a man named Carlos?"_

            Suddenly, the entire bar fell silent. The bartender looked around and surprised Mark by retreating into the back room. Why? Unless…

            Through the silence, he abruptly heard the sound of running footsteps. It could only mean one thing-Some of the bar's customers were itching for a fight, and it looked like Mark was their target. He timed it-waiting until the person would be in range-and then pivoted, bringing his leg up into position. His assailant took the full force of the blow in his gut, collapsing onto the floor in a heap. He could see that there were four more of them, including the man he had asked for information before. He wondered for a moment as to his motive, but was interrupted by two of them rushing forward to him. One of them was large, and looked big enough to crush Mark if he wanted to. The other one came forward, and was met by a right uppercut, knocking him off his feet. 

But then the big one moved, surprising Mark by grabbing him by the neck. He held Mark's arms while another punched him. Mark was fading fast… suddenly, he sprung his legs up, gripping the one who was punching him by the head, and Mark slammed him against the bar. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. Then the big one changed his grip, holding Mark up against the wall.

"Talk, scum! Why are you Valuans looking for Carlos when you already have him? Talk!"

_Valuan? Mark wondered. Then he realized it. The lifeboat still had the Valuan insignia on it. They probably thought he was an agent of the Armada. But what else had the man said… The stunning realization of what had been said hit him like a punch. The Valuans had this Carlos! Well, he would just have to free him. But after he had dealt with these toughs… He looked around wildly for a way to get out of the big man's grip. There was nothing. No loqua bottles he could bash the man over the head with, to paintings he could hit him with… nothing. He decided to try the pressure points-those weak spots in the human anatomy that gave an assailant such an easy target. The nearest ones were within reaching distance of Mark, even from his present position. He located them, and before the man could react, he started pushing on them with force-not enough to kill him, for that would produce a lot of bad blood about it, but just enough to knock him unconscious._

That done, he turned back to the stranger. The man had an expression of fear written on his face, which increased to sheer terror as Mark grabbed him and threw him across the bar. The man crashed through loqua glasses on his way down, and fell with a thud off when he got to the end. Mark drew his rapier as he approached him. Mark pressed his blade against the man's neck, and started to question him.

"Where's Carlos? Are you gonna tell me, or should I pop open your jugular?. Maybe the answer's written in your blood. Wanna find out?" He was using his 'interrogation face', which made him look much tougher than he actually was. I worked surprisingly well.

"Alright, alright!" The man cracked. "He got captured recently by the Valuans for telling some pirates where their ships were. They're taking him back to Valua soon, on that battleship in the dock."

Mark had noticed a battleship, one of Admiral Gregorio's fleet, but he had thought nothing of it. The officers must be having dinner in the Grand Ballroom. 

Suddenly, he could hear sounds. He looked out the window. The officers were returning to the ship! He took his rapier off the man's neck, and ran for the door. He had to make it on to that battleship, any way he could. He pushed open the door, and was presented with a horrific sight-the battleship was departing! He ran forward, and saw his opportunity. A stack of crates was piled on the end of a mooring station.

He ran to the crates, and saw that he could make it to the deck of the ship from atop the crates. He sheathed his sword and began to climb, jumping from crate to crate. Once he got to the top, he jumped without thinking. The landing was less easy than he expected. He missed the deck and barely managed to grab onto one of the secondary cannons. He swung himself onto the deck, and then looked around for any sentries. There were none. His next move was to run for cover behind one of the main guns. He had to think of a plan… Carlos would be in the brig… but how to get there? He would have to sneak inside… He moved sparingly, darting in between the shadows of the guns. This would take stealth…

He sprinted across the deck and into the ship. The hallway was clear-but for how long? He had to get to the brig quickly. Down a staircase, then a ladder, got him to corner of a hallway with two guards patrolling it. He quietly drew his rapier. He had to take them out, but without alerting the rest of the soldiers.

Waiting until one of them came into range, he suddenly lashed out with the butt of his sword. The soldier fell, knocked out, but his partner turned to him with a note of alarm. Mark double-kicked him, knocking him against the wall. He then stowed the bodies away in a chest, to slow any reaction to his movements. He then moved on through the corridor, and found his prize-the brig. Unfortunately, it was guarded by soldiers-four of them. They were playing poker and chatting. He couldn't sneak around them. And stealth was out for this fight. He drew his pistol… And fired.

The guard jerked forward in his chair as the bullet found home, penetrated his armor, and pierced his skull. Fortunately his faceplate kept his brains from scattering all over the table, and they instead splattered on the front of his helmet. He slumped forward, his cards falling from his hand. The other soldiers leapt up, alarmed. Mark charged forward, his sword at the ready. He took the first one with a driving lunge, his bloodied rapier protruding from the soldier's back for a moment before he pulled it out. The next soldier came at him with his sword swinging. Mark parried and made a counterattack at the chink in the armor where the wrist was. The man's sword fell to the ground-with his had still gripping it! Shocked at the sight of his severed wrist, the man fainted immediately.

Mark looked around for the last soldier and saw that he was nowhere to be found. Deducing immediately what the enemy was doing, Mark shoved his gun through his armpit and fired. He was rewarded with a scream.

Sheathing his sword, he grabbed the cell keys from the belt of one of the fallen soldiers. Only one cell was occupied. The man inside was asleep on the bunk.

"Are you Carlos?" Mark queried.

"Huh?" the man grunted, getting up.

Mark repeated his question. "Are you Carlos?"

The man looked at him. "You're not a Valuan. But I am Carlos."

Mark used the key to open the door. "Good. I've been looking for you." He was about to turn when a voice rang out.

"Drop your weapon and turn around."

He dropped his rapier. When he turned around, he was presented with a sight that made his heart sink. Outside the cell, lances at the ready, were half a dozen Valuan officers… And one man with the identification of a ship captain.

Alright. That's that. What new danger will our hero face next? Will he escape from the ship? Why am I asking these questions? You'll find out next time on 'Legend of the Soaring Hawk'!


	8. Duel

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm back!!! Alright, sorry for the long time between updates, but… First I had writer's block, then when it wore off, my computer broke. It's fixed now, though, so here I am! In between then and now: I got AIM, I visited Dark Ronin, and gave him a gift card to Barnes&Noble, his reaction to which was extremely predictable…

Dark Ronin: MORE MANGA!!!

Right. So, here I am at last. Hope you haven't lost interest in the story…

            Mark's mind raced. There had to be a way out of this situation. There were too many of them for him to take… There had to be a way…

            He was being escorted along a corridor of the Valuan battleship _Victoriae_*, part of Admiral Gregorio's fleet. Around him were several guards, and the captain, who currently was in possession of his weapons. He had infiltrated it to find Carlos, the local information hub, who could supposedly tell him where a great sword master was. He needed to learn from the sword master so that he could free his crew from the Valuans. And if he died now, they would be executed. All this was going through his brain at the speed of light, as he went ever closer to failure. There was no way, it would seem, to escape from this.

            Suddenly, an idea raced into his brain. It was crazy-there was no way to tell whether or not it would succeed. But it was his only choice. He knew that the captain would not turn him down, but then the hard part began…

            He decided to go through with it. If it failed, he would die, but he would die anyway if he did nothing. So he set it in motion.

            They were approaching the bridge. He would wait until they were in…

            "So, pirate. Tell me why you decided to enter my fair vessel." The captain spoke with more than just a hint of arrogance. Good. That would make it easier.

            "No." Mark's defiance was clear from his voice, and the captain was startled.

            "Tell me-or die."

            "Never."

            The captain sighed. "Then you shall find out just how deep the sky really is. Throw him off the deck!"

            The guards moved to obey, but were halted by Mark's next words. "Wait. I have a challenge for you." This was the next step.

            The captain looked at him in a manner that showed all too well what he thought of Mark. "_You_? Have a challenge for _me_?"

            Mark looked back at the captain in the same way. "I challenge you to… a duel."

            The captain audibly stifled laughter. "Alright, pirate. I accept your… challenge."

            "Alright. But if I win, you must return my equipment, and set both me and Carlos free."

            "And if you lose?" The captain seemed sure of the outcome already.

            "Then I get to… what was it you said? 'find out just how deep the sky really is'?

            The captain laughed a hollow laugh. "Alright." He handed Mark back his rapier, and drew his own. "En guarde." 

            Mark got into his stance. He looked over his opponent. He had no idea of the skill of his opponent, so he prepared himself for the worst.

            The captain started things off with a low strike. Mark parried this easily. He returned it with a lunge, which was parried, he was then put on the defensive as his opponent used a parry repose** followed by some more strikes. He parried all but one, but managed to partially dodge that one, taking only a nick in his cheek. He then went right into a high strike, which was parried, and then a lunge, which was met similarly. His opponent did another low strike, which Mark parried, then struck. His opponent dodged that, so he shifted into another strike. After this was parried, Mark stopped thinking, focusing entirely on the fight, watching his opponent. Lightning moves went back and forth. He took cuts in the ear and shoulder, nothing serious, but enough to cause pain. He managed to land a few hits on his opponent, all in nonvital areas. 

As the fight progressed, the duelers dancing a deadly dance up and down the bridge, Mark began to lose ground. His opponent battered him with powerful strikes. Suddenly, he felt something behind him. He was backed up against a wall! With nowhere to run, he could not dodge the captain's strikes.

His opponent began a powerful lunge. He knew he could not dodge it, and he couldn't move fast enough to block it. Time seemed to freeze.

_I've come this far, only to fail?_ He thought. _No. NO! I can't die now. The others are counting on me!_ The faces of his crew floated in front of him._ I can't die now…_ his vision blurred. Without knowing it, a cry that shook the bridge uttered from his lips. His sword moved like lightning, deflecting the captain's blow! Then, faster than he had ever been before, a series of strikes battered his opponent, driving him back and dealing blazing wounds.

***

Captain Augustus Picardius couldn't believe it. A few seconds ago, he was driving this lowly pirate back to the wall, preparing a strike that would finish him for good. But now, the tables seemed to have turned. That same air pirate, who had been so helpless before him, was now pushing him back, lashing out with a fierceness the captain had never seen before. He was hard-pressed to stay alive in the face of his opponent's relentless assault. His left arm had already been rendered useless by a strike to the shoulder, and he was limping on his right leg. He had to do something fast, or…

Suddenly, his opponent struck out, and the captain moved to deflect it, only to discover that it was a feint, and the real strike came, faster than ever, knocking his sword away!

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, with the pirate's sword at his throat. Subconsciously, he let out a whimper. It took him a moment, in his fear, to realize that the pirate was speaking.

"Do you yield?" The pirate said, death laced into every syllable of his words.

Again, it took the captain a moment to realize that he was subconsciously nodding his head off like a fool. He took control of his body in time to hear the pirate say his next words.

"Get up."

Watching his opponent all the while, he got up, but was halted by his opponent.

"Kneel." The air pirate said. Augustus had never kneeled to anyone but the empress, and the very idea of giving this pirate the same honor was unthinkable. But that paled in comparison to the pirate's next words.

"Now, kiss my boots like you do to your scum of an empress. Do it."

For the third time in minute, Augustus couldn't believe what he was doing. But the idea of the pirate finishing the work he had started with him was more terrifying than the idea of kissing his undoubtedly filthy boots. He still couldn't believe what he was doing…

***

Vice Captain Juan Robertos watched with eyes wide as his captain was forced to lower himself to his knees in front of this… this _knave_!!!! He dared not make a move to stop him, as the rogue would undoubtedly destroy him with the same mercilessness that he defeated the captain with. He could only stand by on the sidelines as his captain was humiliated by the pirate. Suddenly, the pirate turned. Juan could see in his eyes a blazing spirit, like a demon chained.

"I believe that means I win." The pirate's words were heavy with death. "Now, if you'll just be so kind as to return my pistol, and free Carlos as we agreed, I'll be off this rust bucket."

At that, one of the officers let out a yell, and drew his pistol, aiming it at the pirate. Juan dived behind a console. A shot echoed through the bridge, and the sound of glass breaking followed an instant later. When Juan looked up, the officer was transfixed by the rogue's sword, and one of the windows was shattered. The rogue looked to the other men present.

"Anyone _else_ want to try that?"

The officers said not a word. One of them handed the rogue his pistol, visibly shaking. Another departed toward the brig. After a few minutes, he returned with the prisoner that the rogue had infiltrated the ship to get.

The man had greasy black hair, which was creased back, and a pointed nose, with ferret-like eyes. He was neither fat nor skinny, neither tall nor short, but his weight and stature was masked by his stance, a kind of slouch, which concealed them. The uncertainty about this man was contrasted sharply by the way he watched the environment around him. He looked around with a gaze that seemed to commit everything in the room to memory on some notepad in his brain. His gaze stopped for a few seconds on the captain, who was on his knees in the middle of the floor, his head down, eyes fixated on the floor. He had not moved since he had been defeated, not even looking up when the officer was killed.

The rogue looked out of the window, and added,

"Oh, and I'll need a lifeboat." They were away from Gordo's Bistro, but not too far, for their progress had been halted by the fight. Taking Carlos in tow, the pirate exited the bridge, leaving behind him… One broken body… and one broken man.

*Latin for victory

**In fencing, a move where a parry is turned into a strike

Okay, that was a fun chapter to write. I'm finishing this in the car on the way to my sister's soccer tournament in Virginia Beach, which is about **SEVEN HOURS **from my house… the uploading will be further halted by that.


	9. Directions, merchants and memories

Sorry for lack of updates. Okay, here I am now. Had writer's block that just broke last weekend. So, here's the long-overdue next chapter. Sorry!

            "So. You must have had a reason for rescuing me."

            It had been a few hours since Mark had rescued Carlos, the local information broker, from the Valuan ship in which he was imprisoned. After departing, Mark had found a small island with plentiful animals and wood, and hunted for food. Now they were roasting over a small fire made from a local wood that would burn smokelessly to prevent Valuans from spotting them.

            "I mean, there's no reason to go charging into a Valuan battleship to find me, taking down half the guards, and dueling with the captain to free me if you didn't have some reason to see me. And it probably has something to do with some bit of information that you want."

            Mark looked at him over the fire.

            "You're right. I was told that you know where to find someone that I need to meet."

            Carlos smiled. "I thought so. Now, who is it?"

            Mark was tense. He was close to finding the whereabouts of the sword master that could teach him mastery of the sword, so that he could free his friends from the Valuan prisons before they were executed. He had been told that Carlos could point him in the right direction.

            "A sword master. I've been told that an old master of the blade is around here. I need to meet him."

            Carlos evaluated Mark's statement.

            "Hmmmmmmm………… the old master, eh? Haven't heard of him for a while. Last rumors, though, place him somewhere north-west of Gordo's Bistro, out near the Dark Rift. Sorry, can't help you any more than that. Information is scarce on him, even for me." He paused for a moment. "Why do you want to know about him? You're the first person I've ever had askin' about him. Most people nowadays don't even know he exists. Never heard the rumors years ago."

            Mark looked at him with a gaze that was very clear as to what he wanted the man to do now that he had given him his information.

            "Okay, okay, I won't ask. Can ya drop me off at Gordo's on your way?" Carlos backed off. This guy was obviously danger. Average fighters didn't sneak onto a Valuan battleship and beat the captain in a duel.

            "Alright. It's in that general direction, I suppose. We'd better get going after we finish the meat."

            The meal was finished in silence. Afterwards, they got onto the lifeboat and headed back towards Gordo's Bistro. After dropping Carlos off, Mark headed north-west, towards the master and his only hope for rescuing his friends.

He had been traveling for several hours when he spotted a trail of smoke rising into the sky from behind a small island. As he rounded it, he spotted a listing merchant ship. A gaping hole in the hull seemed to have been caused by hitting a rock, a thing easy to happen during a fog. He was steering his lifeboat toward them to help with damage control when he heard the rapidly approaching noise of another ship engine. Suddenly, he was thrown against the floor as his lifeboat was caught in the slipstream of another ship speeding toward the damaged merchantman. As he got up, he spotted the flag flying from the mast. A skull and crossbones!

_Black Pirates_, Mark thought. _The cowards! That ship can't defend itself already. The damage will make it impossible to mount resistance! _He steered his boat toward the two ships and gunned the engine. He had to help the merchants. The Black Pirates would slaughter them!

As he sped toward the boats, he reflected on his own past. His parents had been merchants, killed by Black Pirates, leaving him orphaned on Sailor's Island. He would not… _could_ not let that happen to another young boy or girl. He would stop the pirates… whatever it took.

By the time he crossed the distance to the ships, the Black Pirates had already boarded the merchant ship. As he approached, he could see the merchants huddling in the middle of the deck, watching helplessly as the pirates brought up their cargo from the hold, preparing to bring it into the other ship. A few bodies already lay on the deck where they died.

Unseen, he put his boat alongside the merchant ship. Drawing his sword and pistol, he made sure they were ready for battle. Peering over the side, he did a quick count of the Black pirates. One, two, three… Twenty-five, thirty. Could he take on that many? No matter. He'd have to. He was those people's only hope…

Suddenly, one of the pirates moved towards the cowering merchants.

"Forget the cargo, let's have some fun!"

            Springing into action, Mark launched himself onto the deck………

            As the pirate fell to the deck with a gaping bullet hole in the back of his head, the whole scene froze. Every pair of eyes gravitated toward the lone figure standing on the deck, holding the sword and the smoking gun. The leader of the pirates stared the most intently at him. Surely this… _youngster_ could not mean to take on his whole crew? Confidence oozing from his voice, he ordered one of his pirates to attack.

A huge pirate that evoked thoughts of bears, danger and running away really, really fast charged toward the youth. Drawing a pair of large cutlasses, he clashed against the other's sword. As they strained against each other, the leader saw the eyes of the youngster focus on the merchants, halting on the small children of the merchants that were cowering alongside them. Seeing the children, the stranger's eyes seemed to light on fire. With a yell, he forced the pirate back and dispatched him with a cut from his sword.

            Well, it seemed the stranger had more in him than suspected. But he still had no hope. He couldn't take on the entire crew. Could he?

Mark almost fell over standing. He was bleeding from a dozen places. Through it all, the merchants had watched from their position cowering around the mainmast. Now they rushed to help their mysterious benefactor.

"Quick, break open one of those crates of salves. This man needs help!"

            Mark relaxed as they carried him inside. Exhausted from his wounds, he struggled to remain awake. As they were applying medicines to him, he focused on the children following behind. They were safe. He had prevented them from becoming orphans…

            **The next day**

            "Please, I really must insist on you taking some. You saved our lives, after all! Taking on that whole crew of Black Pirates!"

            The merchants had several chests of gold and supplies that they wanted to give him in gratitude, all of which would obviously never fit onto his small lifeboat. Eventually, he chose the smallest of the chests, a box full of clips for his gun, and a box of dried and salted food. He needed ammunition and supplies And a little gold couldn't hurt as well. Loading the crates into his boat, he set off, the merchants gratefully waving behind him. The sun was shining over the sky. The next leg of his long and difficult journey was ahead of him. It was a journey that would be long and hard, a journey which most people would consider impossible. But he would do it. He would find the sword master. And then he would free his friends.

            Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. Going to CA for two and a half weeks, then to sleepaway camp for three weeks. But I'll be taking my laptop to both places, so in the second week of August, I'll have a bunch of chapters for your reading pleasure. Plus while I had writer's block, I wrote a chapter of a new original fiction, which I should be posting on Fictionpress at about the same time as this chapter.

                                                                                                                                                                                    Bye until August,

                                                                                                                                                                                    Your author,

                                                                                                                                                                                    Lightningfencer00Fuzz


	10. His goal at last

Okay, I know, I said I'd get the next chapter up in August… The delay probably had something to do with my complete lack of ability to get off my lazy, computer-game-playing butt and write…

I would also like to say that last August was the anniversary of my being a writer here on It's been a wonderful year, and I hope there are many like it yet to come. October was also the anniversary of this fic. Hopefully, it'll be done by next October.

The island was not charted on any maps, not even given a hint of notice in the logs of the explorers who charted the area. The roughly rectangular shape was not even large enough to be a miniscule dot on maps anyway, even if it was featured on them. Mark would have passed it by, if not for a slight discoloration in the rock that caught his interest.

Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself as a cavern in the rock. He steered his lifeboat toward it. Could this be the dwelling of the sword-master he was searching for? In the few days since he had left the merchants, he had searched through the entirety of the North Sea. The opening must have been on the opposite side of the island from him on the first pass.

The cavern was evidently natural. However, the edge was streamlined in places, and Mark parked his lifeboat and stepped off. There was a passage off to one side. The winding path went deeper into the island, finally coming out into the largest room Mark had ever seen.

It was obviously man-made, a perfect rectangle carved into what seemed to be a solid block of ice. To both sides of him, a series of pillars, carved from the same material and with strange symbols etched into them, stretched toward a ceiling that must have been just below the top of the island. On the opposite side from him, another passage continued deeper into the island.

He strode across the chamber and entered the narrow passage. He could see a faint light at the end. _Lights mean people. Finally, I'm close to meeting the master!_

Suddenly, as he stepped forward into the passage, he heard a faintly audible _click_.

All of a sudden, the wall to his right erupted in spikes! He barely managed to evade them in time, jumping to the left.

_Whew. A bit slower and I'd be mincemeat. Gotta be on the lookout for more traps._

He continued. Again, he barely heard the _click_ of a sprung trap, before spikes exploded from the wall to his left. He dodged the spikes and edged past the protruding points.

A few steps further down, a blade swung out from the wall at head level. He ducked under that trap, and immediately sprung a trap that sent a bladed pendulum swinging across his path. He timed his jump and evaded the deadly blade.

Continuing on, he was in midstep when the ground in front of him collapsed! He windmilled his arms, straining to avoid falling into the exposed pit. He managed to take a step backward safely. Taking a few steps back, he leaped over the pit and gained a safe footing on the other side.

He was almost halfway down the corridor, he judged. _Getting there._

The next stretch of corridor seemed to be trap-free. Suddenly, when he reached what he judged to be the halfway mark, he heard another _click_. The grinding of stone suddenly echoed through the corridor.

_Where?!?_ He looked around frantically. Suddenly, he saw a gigantic boulder rising out of the pit he had just leaped.

One instinct filled his mind. _Run!!!_ He dashed toward the end of the passage, where the light was even more visible now. The boulder rolled after him.

The last stretch of the passage was filled with traps. He dodged spikes, leaped around pendulums and rolled under blades, the boulder getting ever closer, smashing through all the traps to reach him. The giant stone was right behind him now…

He leapt past the final spikes and out of the passage, landing in a heap in the next chamber. The boulder, too large to fit through the doorway, crashed against the stones and became stuck.

Getting up, he surveyed the next chamber.

It was of the same general construction as the one before it, but much smaller. Across from Mark were a large set of double doors, with torches set beside them. _Is this the entrance to the home of the sword-master?_ He wondered.

He strode across the room toward the doors.

Suddenly, he heard movement. He looked around. Shadowy figures were emerging from behind the columns! He could not make out any of their features, but they were all around him.

As they approached, he could tell that there were five in total, all… shining? The figures gleamed in the torchlight. They seemed to be not men at all, but humanoid forms of… ice? _Ice men? Golems? Perhaps this island has other protections than the traps_, he thought- too late. The ice-men were only ten yards away.

Not one to go without a struggle, he drew his sword and gun. Backing towards the boulder-blocked passage, the only direction free of a threat, he selected one of the ice-men and fired.

The bullet flew, he heard the impact, and the ice-man jerked back. But, as if it had not been shot at all, it continued approaching toward him alongside the others.

He fired again, with the same results. He fired at them until his gun was empty, but to no avail.

_Well_, he thought, _if bullets don't work, I'll have to use my sword_.

As one of the ice-men advanced, he rushed forward, stabbing with his rapier at where the heart would be if they were men.

The blade passed through the icy chest, albeit with much resistance, and protruded from its back. However, the attacker was undeterred. It struck Mark a powerful blow that sent him flying back, his sword still stuck in his assailant.

He got up, bruised and batted from. The rest were closing in. He rushed back toward the one his sword was stuck in, and launched a furious high kick while simultaneously removing his sword. The result was that the head of the golem went flying off the torso. As he leaped back out of range, the golem seemed to crumble, the ice breaking up into separate pieces.

_All right, go for the heads then. Sorta makes sense._ He dashed toward another one, slicing high. He felt it hit the mark, albeit with much resistance from the ice. It was a clean cut, sending the head flying. As with the first, the ice cracked and crumbled, collapsing into a pile on the ground.

_Two down, three to go_. He turned and faced the other… two?

Suddenly, a blow from behind sent him pitching forward. He saw stars, his vision blurry. As his sight cleared, he spotted the other one behind him. They were all closing in.

He got up shakily, his sight still fogged. He ran out of their range, escaping into the shadows. His sight was returned now. He looked back. They were coming after him.

He took the offensive once more, dashing forward toward another. It expected his high cut, and blocked with its arm, but he quickly struck again, stabbing upward and spearing the head like a shish-kabob. Just like the others, it fell.

There were two left, plodding slowly toward him. He rushed forward, anticipating his next opponent would block his slash and hitting it with a roundhouse kick from the opposite direction. He connected solidly, and the fragile neck shattered, sending the head off the torso.

Only one left now. He faced his last opponent. This one seemed to be the most agile of them all, blocking all his strikes until he feinted and came around the other side with his slash.

The final one collapsed into a heap of ice. He exhaled with relief. Finally. He sheathed his sword.

Suddenly, he heard clapping. He whirled.

The doors were now open, though he had heard no sound, and in the doorway was standing the oldest man he had ever seen.

The man was old enough to be his great-grandfather. He was stooped over a cane made of the same icy material the golems, and indeed the entire chamber, was formed from. He wore a large brown cloak that covered his entire body. Upon closer inspection, the cloak seemed to be made from the fur of some huge and shaggy animal.

But his eyes were his most notable feature. Sky blue, they burned with a passionate fire, but a fire that was strangely diminished, like the spirit of a shamed eagle.

He was clapping. And then he smiled and said, "Well, done, young man. You will do quite nicely."

Mark's mind raced. But his foremost thoughts were, '_Who is he?_' and '_Quite nicely for what?_'

As if reading his mind, the man responded immediately. "Answers will come… in time. But who I am is not important at the moment. What is important," he said, all the while walking toward Mark with a shuffling gait. He got right in front of him. Then he tapped Mark's chest with his cane and spoke. "… is that you are prime material for the next great King of the Pirates."

( ) () ( ) Listen to the dancing Kirby… REVIEW!


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